A Dose of Peace and Quiet
by Eileen
Summary: Peter's sick and up all night coughing, and Rocket can't take it anymore. One way or another, the man is taking his medicine. By force, if necessary. One-shot.


The pillow over his head wasn't blocking out the noises anymore.

Rocket considered for a moment sticking his head under the mattress, but he wouldn't get any sleep that way, either. The bed frame was notoriously uncomfortable.

"Three nights in a row," he grumbled.

Groot, curled up in the corner, stirred. "I am Groot?"

"Don't tell me ya don't hear him!"

"I am Groot!"

"Yeah, I know he's sick! If he'd just take his damn medicine maybe he could get some sleep! Then **we** could sleep!"

"I am Groot?"

"No, it's just as bad in the daytime. That cough's gettin' worse. In another minute I'm gonna go in there and shove the stuff down his throat."

"I am Groot!"

"Relax! I won't hurt 'im! Much."

"I am Groot!"

"Okay, okay! I'll be Nursie Nice." He settled down and tried to close his eyes again. "Maybe Gamora'll make him take it. She must be as sick of his coughing as we are."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, she does seem to like him. I dunno what's goin' on with those two. Humies."

For just a moment, there was utter silence aboard the _Milano_ , or at least as silent as the ship ever got. Rocket found himself daring to hope that the big dummy had finally fallen asleep . . .

And then it started up again, worse than ever.

"D'ast it!" The raccoon shoved the covers aside and slid down to the floor. "You stay here. I'll take care 'a this."

"I am Groot?"

"No, I don't need you! I can handle it!" He went to the ship's lone bathroom, which luckily was unlocked, and climbed up onto first the toilet (only noticing when he was up there that someone had left the lid up again; he almost fell in before his claws dug into the metal and found a grip) and then the sink, and then pawed through the medicine cabinet for the cold medicine he **knew** they'd picked up at their last stop, when this cold or flu or whatever it was Quill had was beginning to show its first symptoms.

"Aw, c'mon, really?" Did they have to put it on the top shelf? Rocket stretched out as high as he could, but came up just short of reaching it. Grumbling, he dumped everything off the first shelf and leaned on that, and this time he grabbed it.

Climbing down, he almost fell in the toilet again, and once his feet were on the floor, he angrily slammed the lid down. Who cared about the noise? They were all probably awake anyway, thanks to Sick-Lord.

Peter was in bed, with his back to the door, and for a moment Rocket thought the man had finally fallen asleep. Then the horrible coughs began again.

Rocket waited out the coughing fit and then whispered, "Hey! Snot-Lord! Wake up!"

"Whah?" Peter rolled over, but didn't open his eyes.

"I know you're not really sleeping. You've been coughing all night long. I think it's time for you to take that medicine we picked up."

"No, no, I'll be fine. I'll-" And he burst into a fresh round of coughing, punctuated by an explosive sneeze.

Rocket gave him a dubious look. "Yeah, sure. You're fine." He cracked the seal on the bottle and poured the thick green liquid into the little plastic dosage cup. "Open up."

"Stuff tastes like crap."

"I don't care! You take this, you go to sleep, then we can sleep. Everybody's happy. Down the hatch." He held the cup out, but Peter turned away.

"Oh, no you don't!" Rocket put the cup down and, taking Peter's face in both hands, turned his head back to face him. "There's two ways this can go: one, you take the stuff yourself; two, I give it to you. Trust me, you wanna go with option one."

"You're unarmed."

"Not entirely. I still got claws and teeth. Don't make me use 'em."

"Fine." Peter took the tiny cup between thumb and forefinger, held it to his mouth, and tipped it up.

"Swallow."

He did so. "Damn, that stuff is **nasty**!"

"Whatever. Go to sleep." And because he wasn't entirely heartless, Rocket helped him lie down again and then pulled the covers up over him. "If you're not better in the morning, we'll take you to a doctor."

"That a threat?"

"A good doctor."

"Ah. Hope he has lollipops."

"Yeah, whatever." Rocket sat beside the bed and waited until Peter had fallen asleep before getting up and going back to his own room.

"I am Groot?"

"Yeah, he took it. He's asleep now. Time for us to hit the sack."

"I am Groot?"

"It's an expression! Gah, yer as bad as Drax!"

"I am Groot?"

"I didn't threaten him! Well . . . not explicitly. But it was fer his own good!

But it was fer his own good! Guy's not gonna get better if he don't get some sleep. And we all want him to get better." Rocket settled back into his own bed, burrowing under the sheets, which were blue and had images of spaceships on them. "Aaaahhhhh. Hear that, Groot?"

"I am Groot?"

"Exactly. Nothing. No coughing. No snoring. Nothing. 'S great, innit?"

"I am Groot . . ." Groot slumped down in the corner, tucking his legs under him like roots and letting his head droop down.

"Night, Groot," Rocket murmured, already starting to fall asleep.

Three minutes and thirty-five seconds later, his alarm went off.

"Damn it!"


End file.
